You can watch but you can't touch until I let you
by marinoa
Summary: Francis wants wine and Arthur is willing to serve him some. FrUK oneshot, lemon.


AN: Alright. I can't believe I'm actually posting this (and even less can I believe that I wrote this in the first place!), but it can't be helped anymore. So, I present you my first smut. =_= _Please_ enjoy. And now, if you excuse me, I'll go back to hiding my face in the pillow under my bed.

**You can watch but you can't touch – until I let you**

When Arthur returned from the rock concert it was almost midnight already, but Francis still wasn't home. Displeased by the fact, Arthur slumped on their sofa; Francis' boss sure was making the Frenchman work long hours. That was too bad... The Englishman was in a mood of doing something else than simply going to bed – at least not alone.

Just when Arthur was considering resigning himself to inevitable and taking a shower, he heard the door, and not many moments later, Francis entered the their living room. The Frenchman looked exhausted and Arthur clicked his tongue in disapproval towards Francis' boss. That man had better stop working _his_ Frenchman like an animal; that was only Arthur's privilege.

Francis turned his face at the sound and saw his lover on the sofa, still in his concert outfit – dark shirt, teasingly tight jeans, black boots, chains there and there, and a leather choker. Arthur saw the familiar lecherous shade appearing in the blue eyes and for once was happy about it. It seemed he would get his fun in the end.

"Good evening, Arthur," Francis said, smile spreading on his lips. "Had a good time?"

Arthur leaned back on the sofa, intending to get Francis sit beside him, which the Frenchman did. Eyeing the Englishman's thighs, he placed his hand on one of them, feeling the muscle beneath the fabric.

"Very," Arthur replied, allowing the hand to move up and down his thigh. "You?"

Francis sighed and squeezed the spot just above the Englishman's knee, causing him jump lightly. "Hardly. Do we still have that bottle of red wine?"

"We do. No – stay there, I'll get it." Arthur stood up and, fully aware of the Frenchman's hungry eyes on his backside, walked into their kitchen. So, Francis wanted wine... Very well. A smirk appeared on the Englishman's lips; then wine would he get. Taking a glass and the unopened bottle, Arthur made his way back to the living room, a plan forming in his mind. Francis would get his wine and Arthur would get his fun – fair enough.

When Francis saw the approaching Englishman, he smiled lewdly. "It has been a while since you last served me wine, _Angleterre_."

"Then it's about the time to do it now, don't you think?" Arthur purred in reply. He placed the bottle and the glass on the dining table in front of the sofa and threw a considering glance at the Frenchman, who gave him a questioning face in response.

"There is something that we have to do first," Arthur said slowly. "So that you won't hurry."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Arthur took few seductive steps to the sofa and straddled the Frenchman sitting on it. Francis' hands were instantly at the Englishman's sides, admiring his slender form, but to the older man's disappointment, his hands were snatched away. Arthur undid one of the leather laces decorating his shirt and gave the Frenchman a stern look.

"Hands," he commanded and chuckling lightly, Francis obeyed, letting the Englishman tie his wrists together. But that wasn't enough for Arthur. He eyed the wall above the sofa and found what he was looking for: a hook in the wall. Originally the hook had been there for a painting, but due to a fight the two lovers had gone through about a couple of weeks ago, the painting was not on the wall anymore. Fortunately the hook alone was what Arthur needed at the moment.

"Arthur, is this really necessary?" Francis asked as the Englishman raised his hands and tied them to the hook. Not too tight - just enough to keep the hands away from where they would certainly go if not tied.

"Absolutely," Arthur replied contentedly, admiring his work. "I know you, pervert – you wouldn't be able to keep your hands there without the lace."

"And why should I keep them up?"

Arthur smirked, his eyes suggesting various possibilities as he slid off the Frenchman's lap. "Didn't we agree that I serve the wine? We did, and I'll do it my way."

Arthur backed few steps away from the sofa and noted an amused, interested, gleam in his lover's eyes. A small part deep in the Englishman's mind warned that there would be times when he would regret what he now intended to do, but at that point, Arthur really didn't care. Didn't humans always urge to live in the moment? And in this moment, Arthur was very sure about what he wanted. Even if Francis would get some material for blackmailing him later.

So let the show begin.

Casually Arthur turned his back to the Frenchman, moving his body sensually and seductively, hearing a beat of music in his mind and following it; not quite dancing but certainly making sure to wake his prey's desire. With slow movements, Arthur started unbuttoning his shirt, letting his arms snake around his body and hearing an approving hum behind him. Reaching the final button, Arthur slowly turned his face to look at Francis, and the tiniest, teasing smile crept to his lips. Francis was -literally- hooked. For once it would the _Frenchman_ who was suffering.

With a casual, almost accidental shrug, never breaking the eye-contact with the other blonde, Arthur let his shirt slide off his shoulders. The shirt revealed a tight, black sleeveless top, and the Englishman grinned at the disappointed look in Francis' eyes. Well, patience was a virtue, now wasn't it?

Arthur slid his hands all around his upper body, from up to down, and, finally after hearing a quiet murmur, grabbed the hem of the top. With slow, so deliberately slow movements he started pulling it up, exposing more and more skin, at the same time picturing a snake in his mind and following its motions. He kept staring into Francis' eyes, enjoying how the Frenchman surveyed him intensely, hungrily. He saw Francis' hands twitching impatiently and laughed inwardly. If he hadn't tied Francis' hands, there was no doubt where they would have already been.

After several long seconds Arthur finally pulled the top over his head and let it drop on the floor. To tease Francis a little more, he spun around a couple of times, fast and controlled, to give a better view at his well-shaped body. This drew an almost frustrated groan from the Frenchman, and Arthur decided it was time to give him something concrete to do. With cat-like, determined steps he approached the older blonde, and raised his right leg. Firmly pressing the foot against Francis' chest, Arthur supported his weight on it and gave the Frenchman a look that expected him to know what to do.

Francis took the hint. With hands tied up, he could only use his mouth, and so he nibbed the boot lace between his lips and pulled. Arthur nodded, appreciating the way Francis managed to do such a task so incredibly sexily. When the laces were loosened enough, Arthur placed the foot on the sofa between the Frenchman's thighs, and sensually pulled his foot out of the boot. Kicking the now useless object on the floor, Arthur raised his left foot against Francis' chest to receive the same treatment as the first one. Francis loosened the laces again, this time using his mouth in more suggestive ways, and Arthur started to feel an urge to forget his show and get something else in that perfect, experted mouth instead of the boot laces. But his self-control managed not to break and he kept up with the game he had started, tossing the other boot on the floor, too. Keeping his balance, the Englishman caressed the Frenchman's neck with his bare foot, slowly sliding it across his chest.

But that was when Francis decided to claim the leading role to himself. He captured Arthur's standing leg with one of his legs and brushed his way up along the Englishman's thigh with the other. Arthur pouted. _Now that isn't good behaviour_. He should have known better and tie the Frenchman's legs, too.

Francis' foot settled on the small of the Englishman's back, urging Arthur to fall into the his lap. But Arthur would have none of that; now, he was in control. Before he would lose his balance, Arthur quickly lowered the leg wandering on Francis' chest down to his groin and smirked at the Frenchman. _Remember your place_, he uttered with his eyes as Francis gave a moan. _No funny games from your side_.

Adding a little more pressure for a moment, Arthur withdrew his foot and backed from the sofa again. The next cloth to remove were his jeans; the end of the _first_ _round_ was getting close. The impatience shined visibly on Francis' face, and feeling a little sadistic, the Englishman took his time, as to revenge all those times the Frenchman had driven _him_ crazy with his tricks. Moving his body invitingly, Arthur made sure to present Francis everything he might or might not give to him.

Finally the Englishman decided the time to be right for removing the rest of the clothes he was still wearing. Unbuttoning his jeans, Arthur thought twice about it, and decided to give Francis something more to do while waiting. So the Englishman got closer to his lover and smirked at him. Francis' face was worth seeing when Arthur climbed on his lap, throwing an innocently questioning look at him. Not giving it a second thought, the Frenchman leaned forward and took the zipper between his lips, intending to open it. But the task proved to be not so easy; only with lips it was difficult to pull down the metallic thing.

For Arthur it was also hard not to let the Frenchman work his magic freely on his body. Having that mouth working so close to his _vital regions_ made Arthur almost lose his sanity, pretty much in the same way as the zipper made Francis crazy. For the good of both of them, the older blonde finally succeeded with his task and Arthur forced himself to quickly retreat again, earning a frustrated groan as he did so. Getting impatient himself, Arthur put his fingers between his underwear and his skin to get all the pants off with one movement, and turned half-way away from Francis. Slowly he slid down the last material covering his body and dropped it on the floor, chains clanging when they hit the hard surface. Finally fully naked but his back still to Francis, Arthur raised his hands to his neck and with deliberate, caressing motions removed the black leather chocker. Only then did he slowly turn around, exposing himself to the Frenchman. Lust was obvious in the blue eyes, and smiling teasingly, Arthur tossed the chocker on the Frenchman's lap.

"What did you drink in that concert?" Francis asked harshly, hands clutching.

"Hardly anything," Arthur replied truthfully and stepped to the table, shivering slightly from the coolness of the air. "Anyway, you have earned your wine."

Arthur proceed to the sofa again with the wine and poured some red liquid into the glass. The he comfortably settled himself in his lover's lap, straddling him. Francis' hungry mouth instantly tried to attack Arthur's, but the Englishman frowned and placed his fingers on those skilful lips. "Not yet," he purred, sipped some wine and only then did he let their lips meet. The red liquid flowed from the Englishman's mouth into the Frenchman's and down their chins.

When Francis had swallowed his wine, Arthur pulled back, and satisfied, surveyed his lover. Francis licked his lips. "Arthur," he said lowly, eyes dark with passion, "For the sake of everything existing, let my hands free!"

Arthur grinned wildly at him, enjoying the sense of power, and shook his head. "_Oh mais non, je ne peux pas faire une telle chose__,_" he replied in fluent French. He was seriously intending to take back all those times when Francis had tortured him near to tears.

"My hands, Arthur..."

"_Non_," the Englishman purred in the very same way Francis had a habit of doing, and lifted the glass of wine to his lips again. Francis shifted a little, making the wine spill and flow down Arthur's chin to his chest.

"Fuck," Arthur cursed and would have said even more, had Francis not launched his head forward as much as he could and started licking the liquid away. "I would, believe me," the Frenchman muttered and moved to suck on one of the Englishman's nipples.

Arthur drew in a sharp breath and unconsciously tangled his hands in the Frenchman's hair. Damn it, he had done the fatal mistake: he had let Francis touch him. And not only touch, but- but- Arthur couldn't think anymore when the hot mouth moved on his chest and went higher for the neck, leaving a couple of red marks along the way.

Long mewl escaped Arthur's lips as Francis sucked a point on his neck after biting it lightly, and suddenly the Englishman couldn't take it anymore. Fuck it, he needed Francis _now_. With shaky hands he reached up and fumbled with the lace, finally managing to get it undone and free Francis' hands.

Francis hummed in approval and shook his arms to get the numbness away. He then carefully placed his hands on Arthur's both sides and pulled away from abusing his shoulder in order to admire the flushed, naked man in his lap. Running his fingers along the Englishman's thighs and up his sides, Francis smiled lewdly and leaned in to whisper into his lover's ear.

"_I want more wine._"

Arthur shivered at the tone and the teasingly light touch on his skin. Give Francis a little finger, and he'll take the whole arm. The whole body. Everything...

"You greedy man," Arthur scolded and slid back, off the Frenchman's lap. Grabbing the bottle of wine with him, he went to the table and positioned himself in a half-lying pose on it. He leaned his head back in the way he knew Francis loved it, and cast some wine down his exposed neck.

Francis stood up and approached the table, blue eyes scanning what was being served. Arthur watched him for a while but couldn't bare the intense staring for long and closed his eyes. He sprawled his body on the cool surface in inviting manner and felt the red liquid drawing patterns on his skin, his body trembling in anticipation. What was taking Francis so bloody long?

The Englishman opened his eyes again and stirred seeing the dark blue eyes only inches from his own. Slowly, Francis leaned over him, placing his hands on both sides of Arthur's body. Arthur met the stare, waiting for the other one to finally _do something_, and felt his breath quickening. "Francis," he breathed, hoping for his voice to sound warning. His body was craving for the Frenchman's touch and the feeling was unbearable.

"_Oui_?"

"Don't put on that bloody innocent face!"

"_Arthur_," Francis purred, making the Englishman's heart nearly stop. "You just tortured me for ages, and now I'm going to have my reward."

Arthur closed his eyes again. He started to feel desperate; he should have known that Francis would want to show his dominance after all – the Frenchman wasn't the type to kindly obey, especially when it came to love.

Finally, _finally_, the Englishman felt demanding lips claiming his own and he let out a pleased moan. He wrapped his arms around Francis' neck but gave a small displeased whine when he realised the Frenchman was still fully dressed. Not breaking the kiss, Arthur started unbuttoning the crimson shirt that was already stained in wine. Apparently Francis, too, decided it wasn't the right time to be wearing anything, and began getting rid of his other clothes. After fumbling with the buttons, Arthur yanked the offending shirt off and Francis did the same to his trousers, tossing them aside to join the rest of removed clothes. He climbed on the table, too, settling between Arthur's spread legs, and left the Englishman's lips to enjoy the traces of wine now warmed by Arthur's body.

His back arching into the touch, Arthur squirmed of pure pleasure as Francis' skilled mouth moved lower and lower, humming appreciatively under his breath.

That was when Arthur felt fingers firmly squeeze around his hardening length and suddenly his vision was filled with small stars. Sounds of pleasure broke free from his throat, even though he did his best to suppress them as Francis' fingers played with his bollocks and ran up and down his already hard member. Having nothing else to grab, the Englishman obsessively clutched and yanked the Frenchman's golden locks, earning only slightly displeased growl.

And then the proficient hand pulled away, but Arthur didn't even have time to sigh before Francis' hot, wet mouth replaced it. The Englishman's lips parted into a silent scream as the divine mouth around him worked its magic. Francis used everything he he could: his lips, teeth and even throat, and his tongue, oh Lord his _tongue_. His tongue was swirling around Arthur's erection, licking where teeth had just bit, feeling everything from the base until the very top, alternatively gently and harshly twirling around the tip and putting almost unbearably sweet pressure on it. It felt so good, so incredibly _good_ that the pleasure was driving Arthur crazy and he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't, it was, oh God, it was...

"Francis!" Arthur cried out, unable to even see clearly with his eyes.

The Frenchman merely hummed in response, only increasing the pressure and massaging the Englishman's thighs and buttocks with his hands. Arthur felt he was getting so close, so close to perfection, and it was too much for him to take, too much- Screaming out Francis' name, the Englishman came into his mouth, the pleasure taking him high, and even higher.

Familiar hands rubbed Arthur's chest lovingly and the Englishman felt light kisses on his face and finally on his lips. Blindly he reached with his arms and successfully wrapped them around the Frenchman's neck, pulling him closer in order of deepening the kiss. It didn't last long, though; Arthur was still panting and whether he wanted it or not, he really needed to breath, too.

As the two men pulled apart, Arthur stared into his lover's eyes, mind blank. "Fuck," he muttered breathlessly, trying to deal with the sweet pleasure in his body. "I love you, Francis, I..." He cut himself off to catch his breath again.

Francis laughed airily. "I'll remind you of that the next time you are in the stable state of your mind."

There was no doubt that Francis would, and Arthur huffed, pulling the Frenchman for another kiss.

"_Je t'aime__, _Arthur," Francis muttered into the kiss, and due to both the words and the kiss, Arthur almost didn't notice the finger slipping in through his entrance.

"F-fuck, _Francis_!"he whimpered as soon as he felt the second finger worming inside of him, pleasure overriding the discomfort.

"You know," Francis laughed lowly, covering Arthur's chest in kisses. "that I will."

Arthur arched into the touch, the fingers working their magic and searching for his sweet spot. "Then..." He let out a long hiss, mind going blank for a second as Francis found what he had been looking for and abused his neck with his mouth. Arthur grabbed his hair with both of his hands and yanked until the Frenchman's face was on the same level as his, and kissed him fully on the lips. "Then bloody _do_ it already!" he managed to say, desperately hoping that the need in his voice hadn't been as obvious as it probably had.

"_C__héri__,_ did you happen to prepare any lube nearby?"

"Forget the lube!" Arthur almost yelled in frustration. "I don't need any fucking lube, I need _you,_ and _now_!"

Francis chuckled and rose off Arthur's body, removing his fingers out of him. The Englishman shuddered as the warmth of his lover's body went away, even though the table under Arthur wasn't cold anymore. But without Francis' weight on top of him, Arthur found very little sense in lying naked on their bloody _dining table_, and he gave an impatient whine while staring at the Frenchman demandingly.

But the said Frenchman simply calmly took his time; he let his eyes roam over the sprawled body before him, surveying every tiniest detail. He laid his hands on Arthur's chest, running them down his sides, to his stomach, along his thighs – slowly, caressing.

"You are perfect..." he muttered and Arthur shuddered again, this time because of the intense, loving stare he received.

"Francis," he reminded the Frenchman in a warning tone.

The dreamy expression on Francis' face disappeared as if it had never even existed and was replaced with a wolfish grin. "I won't be holding back, Arthur," he warned darkly in return and gripped the Englishman's hips.

"Then stop doing so and-"

Arthur couldn't finish his sentence as he felt Francis pushing into him, stretching him even more from before. The Englishman hissed like a cat, not knowing whether the pain or the satisfaction was greater.

The Frenchman groaned as his length was surrounded with Arthur's tight muscles, and the Englishman could feel that Francis was barely managing to stay still, waiting for him to adjust to the new feeling. Impatiently, Arthur rolled his hips to encourage his partner to move. "I thought that you wouldn't be holding back."

Francis smiled and leaned forward to place a quick kiss on the Englishman's lips. "I won't," he promised and with that, he tentatively rolled his hips too, making Arthur moan loudly. Still holding his lover's hips, Francis withdrew out of him just to slam back in, and he did it again, and again, and again, adding more and more force each time he thrust into his Englishman, enjoying his cries of pleasure.

Arthur had his arms around Francis' shoulders and he gripped them with all his strength as the Frenchman continued hitting his prostate over and over again. Moans broke free uncontrollably from deep of both men's throats and stars returned to fill Arthur's vision once again. It was just too good, it was divine, perfect, and if Arthur had been able to think, he would have thought that there was nothing that could feel better.

Which was proved to be wrong when Francis grabbed his erection again. Still gripping the Englishman's hip with one hand -hard enough to bruise, Arthur was sure- the Frenchman ran his fingers up and down Arthur's length, moving his hand _just right _to send his lover to cloud nine.

Desperately wrapped around his lover's body, Arthur attempted to touch and taste as much skin as possible. But each thrust into him made him moan and scream, and the stars wouldn't let him see, and pure pleasure was paralysing his whole body, so his attempts started to be more and more messy, more and more desperate. There were only two words in his mind at that point, which he repeated not even realising he was doing so. "Yes... Francis, _yes_!"

With the pace they were having, Arthur knew he would be finished in moments. Gripping Francis' shoulders even harder, Arthur arched his body to meet the Frenchman's, signalling him that he was close.

Humming encouraging words and praises, Francis fastened his hand working on Arthur's shaft and increased the speed and force of his thrusts. That was it for Arthur – Francis had finally thrown him over the edge. Both Arthur's vision and mind went sparkling white as he came, soon feeling the Frenchman following him.

After a moment Francis pulled out of Arthur, and panting heavily, the Englishman relaxed his muscles, his arms still remaining around his lover's neck. Francis leaned down and locked their their lips together into a brief, breathless kiss, carefully lowering himself fully on top of his lover, and Arthur welcomed his soothing weight. For a while they remained like that, calming their furiously beating hearts and heavy breathing. No matter how many times Francis and Arthur had made love before, each time always felt better than the previous one. Perhaps it was magic, Arthur thought, or then it was Francis.

Finally Francis sat up and looked at Arthur, smiling at him lovingly. "We should go to bed, _non_?"

Arthur winced at the idea of moving, but the bed indeed sounded far more inviting than the hard and now also dirty wooden table. Forcing himself up and into the Frenchman's embrace, Arthur shook his head slightly. "I'll never be able to dine at this table again," he muttered tiredly.

Francis laughed, lifting his lover up. "Just wait for tomorrow, Arthur."

X


End file.
